


Fearful Symmetry

by kerlin



Category: Alias
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-31
Updated: 2010-08-31
Packaged: 2017-10-11 09:08:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/110747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kerlin/pseuds/kerlin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the forests of the night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fearful Symmetry

It wasn't a decision I came to gradually.

No, it wasn't like that at all. No premeditation, doctor. I just woke up one night and thought, this house has to go.

Yes, just like that.

What do you think prompted it? Aren't you going to ask harder questions? I can tell you in two words: Lauren Reed.

Oh, come on, you've read my file. You know who she is.

You guys have got to know that all that "in your own words" crap just makes it look like you haven't done your homework.

Don't get all prissy. In my own words, huh? Lauren Reed was a traitor to her country. She was a lying, murdering, sociopath who sold her soul to the highest bidder. She manipulated people for sport, she was responsible for the failure of dozens of operations, and she was a lousy lay.

You know she was my wife, unless that's the sports section you've got open in front of you. Half the CIA knows she was my wife. Look, I'm already bored with this. Let me know when you actually learn something new and I can get the hell out of here and back to work.

Fine. Lauren. Yes, I used past tense.

Because she's dead.

I'm sure the report is in my file – right, sorry, those sacred "own words." If this is going to be nothing more than me telling you things you already know, we're both going to get really bored really quickly. And quite frankly, I have better things to do with my time.

Yes, I can see we're not going anywhere.

All right, doc, the sixty-four thousand dollar question: why did I kill my wife? Upon arrival at Palermo, I proceeded to the site of the Covenant excavation. I heard sounds of fighting and followed them to the central area of the dig, where I found Lauren Reed engaged in hand-to-hand combat with Agent Bristow. Ms. Reed gained the upper hand and was holding Agent Bristow at knifepoint. She challenged me to drop my gun; I feigned doing so, and shot her in the shoulder. She released Agent Bristow, and I shot her several more times to ensure that she would no longer pose a threat. She fell backwards into a mineshaft.

Those are my own words. I wrote the damned report, didn't I? Actually, why am I bothering to tell you that? You read it.

I'm calling her Agent Bristow because she is an officer of the Central Intelligence Agency and due that respect.

Why do you want to talk about her?

Why don't I? Hey, that was some clever reverse psychology, or whatever the hell you call it. She has nothing to do with this.

Then you're wrong.

Christ, again with the – look, if you want the whole story, we'll be here for days. Wouldn't your time be better spent asking me if I'd rather be the babbling brook, the mighty oak, or the clothesline?

No, I don’t think I'm avoiding the question. I told you: Sydney has nothing to do with this. Leave her out of it.

Oh, you caught that, did you? Yes, I called her by her first name.

I think I did that because we're friends. Hey, while I'm at it, can I call you Stanley?

You're the one who wants us to be all buddy-buddy.

Fine. Whatever. Sydney. Agent Bristow. Kate Jones, Christiana Stevenson, Julia Thorne – leave her out of this.

You don't think I'm leaving her out of this? That's rich. You're the one who keeps bringing her up.

Enough of this. Don't you have some, you know, actually sick people to go treat, instead of sitting here playing twenty questions you already know the answers to with me?

Yeah, I don't think we're getting anywhere either. In fact, I don't think there's anywhere to get. Just sign the paper and let me go back to work.

Tomorrow? Can't we just get this done…fine. All right. It's the taxpayer's dime. See you then.

_Day 2_

Hey, I decided. I think I want to be the clothesline.

Well, then. Straight to business?

I guess that's a yes.

I've decided to cooperate, doc. Whatever it takes to get me back to work.

I thought I told you she doesn't have anything to do with this.

I guess my cooperation only extends so far as your making sense does. Here's who we should be talking about: Lauren Reed. Daughter of the late Senator ? Reed and Olivia Reed. Someone's finding her, right? You should probably get on that.

If you're interrogating me, then your clearance is damn well high enough to know what's being done about Olivia Reed.

You're just all about the details, aren't you? This is an interrogation.

No, this is not a conversation.

Well, for one thing it seems to only be about things you want to talk about.

Like I didn't see that coming a mile away. I want to talk about you signing the sheet of paper that lets me get back to my life.

Are you going to twist everything I have to say out of context? I work hard, yes. It's a large part of my life. But my work is not my entire life.

Well, you know, it's not like I do anything important.

I would say I'm not trying to be flippant, but that would be a lie. What I'm trying to be is whatever will convince you that I'm fine and that I can go home.

I told you why I burned down my house. Lauren Reed controlled my life for long enough. I didn't want any reminders of that time to carry over. Isn't that kind of obvious?

That is so far off the subject I'm not even going to address it.

I told you, she – you know what, clearly you get a kick out of me repeating this.

What the hell kind of question is that?

If you'd stop asking me about her, I'd stop telling you she has nothing to do with it. I'm as sick of it as you are.

Once again, things that are incredibly obvious. Yes, Sydney's apartment burned down.

Are you kidding me with this?

Yeah, I could have guessed the no sense of humor thing.

You may have left the point behind about ten minutes ago, doc. Stuff has been burning down since man discovered fire. It happens. I think we're done for today.

_Day 5_

Hey, long time no see. And here I thought it was over between us.

Not much, really. They've got me on some kind of watch. Went to the gym, did some sightseeing.

Oh, the usual. Monuments and museums.

No, I don't have a favorite.

We lived here when I was younger.

I don't remember much about it. I was six when we moved.

My father was reassigned. What's with the small talk?

It's not your job to be my friend. It's your job to write whatever bullshit the CIA wants.

So soon? All right, then.

_Day 12_

Did you send the other guys to try and soften me up? Poor form, doc. They were really boring, and I don't think they really appreciated the subtlety of my interpretation of their ink blots.

Well, it did look like a bunch of monkeys having an orgy.

It's been almost two weeks. You tell me where we are with this.

Do you have any idea what goes on outside these walls? Olivia Reed is probably long gone by now. Arvin Sloane has probably done unspeakable things to Nadia Santos. And Sydney…

No, I'm not going to finish that sentence.

I thought we'd moved on from this.

We thought she was dead.

There was a body, there was a DNA match – I don't really remember.

It wasn't really a good time.

Watch it.

I'm not going to answer questions about our relationship.

No. I draw the line.

It was three years ago, doc. A lifetime ago. And in between there was Lauren Reed.

What do you mean, I keep trying to make this about her? It is about her. In case you didn’t notice, I told you right off the bat that I burned down my house because of her. Check your transcripts. We're really not going to get anywhere if we keep having the same conversation every time.

No, I don't think it's my fault that that's happening.

Sydney’s apartment was burned down by the Covenant. Mine was not. Unless you’re going for some sort of symbolism?

No, I didn’t think so.

I haven’t spoken to her since we got back from Palermo.

She left for Wittenberg right after that and then you dragged me here.

This is voluntary only because they took away my clearance until I went through it. So it was either sit behind a desk and translate obscure French newspapers, or spend these delightful few weeks with you.

No, I haven’t tried to call her.

No secure lines here.

That’s not paranoia, doc, that’s a sensible precaution.

There are all sorts of things I don’t want the CIA listening in on about my relationship with Sydney.

Stop asking things you can find out by spending five minutes listening at any water cooler in Langley.

Assume whatever the hell you want.

That’s a really stupid question.

Yes, I wish the past three years hadn’t happened. I would think that’s fairly obvious. And I’m sure I’m not the only person to think that. Speaking of, why haven’t you got Jack Bristow on a couch somewhere? No – never mind. He’d eat you alive.

I’m not afraid of him.

I’m not afraid of anyone.

Especially not Lauren. She’s dead.

Christ, is this some New Age ectoplasm bullshit?

I sleep like a baby.

Pity the poor schmuck who got stuck on the other end of that surveillance feed.

Lying is a way of life at this point. Hey, that was nice and deep. Let me try and interpret it. I'm sure you think I was confused between a mission and my life, and somehow that's why I burned down my house.

You must be hell at the drive-up window. "Would you like fries with that?" they'd ask, and you'd say "But would you like fries with that?"

No, I don't think that's why I burned down my house.

Well, for one thing, I told you. It wasn't an impulse thing. It required some planning, you know.

There is some truth to the idea that it's connected to missions. We've done it before. Any spy worth his salt knows how to burn down a house to destroy evidence. They probably did the same thing when they burned Sydney's apartment.

You need an accelerant. Most people think gasoline, but there are a lot of other things you can use. Any kind of alcohol will work. Paint thinner and turpentine in a pinch. Some kinds of industrial chemicals work, too, but you don't usually find those around the house.

Hm? Oh. Trade secret, doc. Nothing that could be detected. A shot of bourbon to start it off, though.

It was handy, and it made it look like an accident.

Yes, handy. The police report is in my file. I wasn't legally intoxicated.

That's another thing that you can just look up in a report somewhere.

Fine. Whatever they used, they were good. It looked like an accident. They started it off with a broken oil lamp. They couldn't disguise that there was a fight. But we just thought she'd defended herself against…she had a lot of enemies.

She was missing for two years. But we thought she was dead. I scattered her ashes.

She says she doesn't remember anything.

You're just…okay. I'll see you tomorrow.

_Day 17_

So much for the see you tomorrow stuff. You keep doing this, you're going to give me an abandonment complex.

It was a joke, doc. Lighten up.

Ah, is this going to be the issue of the day?

No, I don't think I drink too much.

The woman I loved had just died. I think I was entitled to some…leeway.

People have been using alcohol to numb pain since the beginning of time. I wasn't the first and I won't be the last.

I wouldn't call it a binge.

It was what…three, four months?

It was two and a half years ago, no, I don't really remember how long it was exactly. I wouldn't remember how long it was if I'd spent every second of it sober.

France, mostly. We have a house in Normandy.

This never gets old. Right under Vaughn, Michael C. it says Fleury, Normandy in that file you carry in here every day.

Then what's in the folder?

Why would you have that?

No, I already told you: they broke an oil lamp. In Sydney's bedroom. It was this pink girly thing she kept on her dresser. She hardly ever used it. I'm sure the crime scene report says all this, or do you just carry it with you, haven't actually read it yet?

Yes, well, obviously I'm not as clever as the Covenant. Or maybe I just didn't care about covering it up. Shot of bourbon, right onto the couch. Worked like a charm.

See, I know where you're going with this.

Yes, I do.

I really doubt you're onto something, but just for kicks, let me see if I can spell it out: Sydney's apartment burns down. She loses two years of her life, has to start over. My house burns down. I lose three weeks of my life and what, exactly?

Yes, I wish those two years hadn't happened either. Actually, the only good thing about this last year was that Sydney came back, so let's make that a grand total of three years. Three years gone, and I'm back in my office making reservations for Santa Barbara. Presto! It doesn't work like that, doc.

My mother taught me never to cry over spilt milk.

I'm not being difficult…Look, I don’t know what you want me to get from this. Did I think that burning down my house would somehow symbolically put Sydney and I on the same footing? Did I think that trying to erase Lauren's presence fro my life would erase those three years? Deep down, you know what, you're probably right. I'm sure you're a very smart man. But here's what you really haven't figured out yet: I don't care. Okay? I really could not possibly care less. I burned down my house because just like I said, I realized that it was what I had to do. I didn't sit down and draw flow charts and plan out how to best pretend that I followed Sydney in that night, or that I just drove straight on to Santa Barbara, or that I'd paid a little bit more attention every time Lauren had another trip…Maybe some people think like that, but not me, doc. I burned down my house. It probably wasn't the most intelligent thing I've ever done, but it's far from the least sane thing I've ever done. And you know what? It's worked out pretty well so far, except for landing me here. Less clutter this way. Got rid of a lot of things I wasn't ever going to use again. Made it a lot easier to move on – yes, I know, this is exactly what you want me to say. I'm moving on.

All right then.

Yeah…I'll see you around.


End file.
